Mama's Arms are Empty
by ismisesarah
Summary: This time wouldn't be like Jem.


_"Doctor, she's seizing!"_

 _"There's too much blood, she's bleeding out!"_

 _"Her pulse is weakening, doctor!"_

 _"No! Don't move her! It could be fatal!"_

Jean Finch hadn't had an easy time at the birth of her first child. While most babies brought joy and happiness to their mother's lives, Jean's first baby had brought a heart attack and two weeks spent unconscious.

Jeremy Finch had been due to make his appearance in March of 1922, but instead he arrived one morning in mid January, nearly eight weeks premature. Truthfully, Jean could remember very little about the birth of her son. She remembered that there had been more blood than she had ever seen in her life, she remembered pain like she could barely describe, and she remembered the intense feeling of pressure on her chest before everything went blank. She had come round in her bed nearly two weeks later, being told she was recovering from a small heart attack, though Jean didn't think "small" was a word that should really be paired with "heart attack."

Atticus had been right by her side when she woke up, having barely moved from their room for two weeks. When she had groggily opened her eyes and looked at him, she watched his face change instantly from pronounced worry and apprehension to immeasurable relief. It was plain as day in his eyes that he had truly believed she wouldn't be coming back to him. He had taken her hand tightly in his and explained exactly what had happened.

Jean listened in fear as he told her how her heart just seemed to have given up on her, listened as he told her how it had taken six nights before a whole night passed where she hadn't stopped breathing. The more she listened to Atticus, the more she felt like a failure. No other woman she had known had had such trouble with babies, yet here she was having spent two weeks unconscious after the birth of her first born. The more she listened to Atticus, the more she became convinced that their baby hadn't made it. Any minute now Atticus would deliver that devastating blow and she'd be forced to say goodbye to a child she hadn't even truly known.

But he didn't.

Instead, Atticus had carefully lifted a little bundle from the bassinet and placed Jeremy Atticus Finch into her arms. He was warm and heavy and fit perfectly into the crook of her elbow. His eyelids fluttered just a little and he let out the tiniest of sighs as he kept sleeping, almost as if he knew he was in his mother's arms and protected from everything bad in the world. Jean was speechless. As she gazed down at the perfect little being that was her son, she was convinced that there was no baby more perfect than the one currently in her arms.

"He's just..." Jean began, struggling to think of an adequate word to describe her son, and feeling herself beginning to cry just looking at him.

"Perfect." Atticus had finished quietly, kneeling at the bed and kissing his son's head. Jem's little eyebrows furrowed at the sensation. "Just like his mama."

Jean then listened as Atticus told her how Jem had been the only thing giving him strength as she lay unconscious, he had been the only thing giving him light on his darkest days, and he might be the only one they ever had.

Dr Reynolds had explained to Atticus how Jean's heart had been under strain during her pregnancy, not pumping blood as efficiently as it should. He had said how he was unsure if Jean's heart could handle another pregnancy, how the repeated strain may prove to be too much for her. It would take time and tests and whatnot before he was sure, but he had warned that Jem may be their only child.

At the time, Jean hadn't been bothered when she heard. She wasn't thinking about another child when she had her Jem to fawn over. Jem was really the only thing she needed, and she was happy.

Her baby boy grew everyday, and Jean and Atticus both delighted in watching him. They watched at four months when Jem sat up on his own for the first time, they watched at seven months when their son began crawling around the house, they listened at ten months when Jem began picking up a few words, and watched at eleven months when he tentatively took his first steps.

As he continued to grow, Jean watched with pride when it looked as though Jem would take after her in looks. He very closely resembled her with his hair and eyes, something she loved teasing Atticus about. To Jean, there was no little boy more handsome than her Jeremy.

As time went on and Jem turned one, Jean found herself thinking about babies again. She knew it would only be a matter of time before Jem was too big to be held and coddled, and she thought she'd maybe like another one. However, the more she thought about another baby, the more Dr Reynolds' words rang in her ear warning her how dangerous it may be, how there was a real chance she could lose her life. Was it really worth that risk? Was she really prepared to possibly leave Jem without a mother? More than anything she wanted to be there to watch her little boy grow up, so maybe another baby was one thing she should forget about.

So she did. Despite how difficult it was, she pushed another child from her mind and instead focused on enjoying watching her Jem grow up. Everyday she watched Jem get bigger and smarter and, if possible, more handsome, but it seemed like she hadn't been the only one thinking about adding to the family, seemingly Atticus had also been contemplating another baby.

He was sitting in his chair as usual when she had finished putting Jem down for the night. He folded his newspaper as she came into the living room, reaching for her hand and pulling her onto his knee.

"You can't have missed me that much when I was right down the hall." Jean teased, resting her head against his shoulder.

Usually, Atticus would have something witty to say right back to her, but tonight he didn't. "I've been thinking about somethin'." He said quietly, resting his forehead against her.

"That's never a good sign," Jean kept teasing him.

Atticus poked her in the side a little. "I've been thinking, and you don't need to answer right away...why don't we have another baby?" He said, and it was impossible not to hear the longing in his voice.

Jean went a little stiff on his knee. It had been months since she had entertained the notion of having another child, months since she had let herself think of the terrible things that could happen if things went wrong. Atticus' question had brought her right back to sitting in front of Dr Reynolds just over a year ago and listen to him warn her of the potential risks, she was right back in that place at being terrified of losing the chance to watch Jem grow up. She didn't know how to answer her husband. She was caught between being terrified, but not wanting to let him down, not wanting to deny him something he so wanted.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

She felt Atticus tighten his grip on her. "So am I," he answered honestly. "It was just a thought," he added quickly, trying not to sound too let down.

She hated letting him down, especially when another baby was something she still yearned for. If Atticus could push his fears aside, then why couldn't she? After all, she could see Dr Reynolds and he could tell her that everything was fine and she wouldn't have any trouble, and they didn't have to start trying right away. Maybe what happened with Jem was just a one off occurrence, maybe she'd be fine if they had another one, maybe she was just letting her fear get the better of her. Everything would probably be fine.

"We could see Dr Reynolds," Jean said quietly, deciding to swallow her fear.

She could almost feel her husband perk up. "Are you sure? Only if you're comfortable," he was saying, though she could hear the excitement in his voice.

"I'm sure." Jean said, trying to sound more upbeat. "I didn't tell you, but I've been thinking the same thing for a while. I'd love another baby." She smiled at him for good measure, hoping he knew that was the honest to God truth.

Jean's appointment with Dr Reynolds was three days later. He hadn't exactly looked thrilled when she told him why she was there, but had ultimately given her and Atticus the all clear, though Jean was still slightly scared. She hoped that once they began trying and another child became a real possibility, the excitement of a growing family would quickly overpower any remaining feelings of fear. After all, what was more exciting than waiting for the arrival of a baby?

 _"Nearly there. We're nearly there, Mrs Finch."_

 _"Doctor..."_

 _"Oh...oh, my God."_

 _"The umbilical cord..."_

 _"Atticus, what's going on? Atticus, what..."_

 _"The cord...too tight...entirely unseeable..."_

 _"Atticus?"_

 _"Jean..."_

It took five months for Jean to get pregnant, and once it finally happened, she felt as though she were floating. Everyday she was telling herself it would be ok, everything would be ok. This time wouldn't be like Jem, and she'd actually remember the birth of her second child. She had nothing to be afraid about. It was all going to be ok.

With absolute joy Jean watched as the months rolled by and she continued to get bigger. In time, she began to feel her baby move within her, and she delighted in reaching for Atticus' hand to let him feel his child kick. Her baby wasn't even in her arms yet and already Jean loved it fiercely. She could only imagine that the feelings of love, devotion, and protectiveness she was feeling would multiply tenfold at her baby's birth.

Jean also watched as Atticus grew more excited with each month that passed. She knew he was still scared, and so was she, but it appeared as though he had let his excitement quash his feelings of nervousness. It was Atticus who told Jem that he was going to have a new brother or sister, it was Atticus who practically took an inventory to make sure they had everything they needed for the baby's arrival, and it was Atticus who would silently reach out and place his hand on her stomach as they read together, a little smile always on his face when the baby kicked. It was small little things that displayed to Jean just how much her husband couldn't wait to have another baby.

Although the baby had been moving around quite regularly, in the later months of her pregnancy Jean noticed how she could barely feel her baby move at all, it was almost as though it was completely still within her. Or maybe it was just too difficult for her to feel? Though it scared her, she wouldn't let herself worry. It was probably fine. There was so sense in getting worked up over nothing and letting _that_ harm the baby.

The baby was due in December, but Jean went into labour one night in early November. Immediately, she began to panic. There had been blood, nearly more than when Jem had been born. She was in pain, and it hurt worse than when Jem had been born. From the minute her premature labour began, she was regretting not going to Dr Reynolds. How could she have been so stupid? Obviously there had been something wrong when the baby hadn't moved in weeks. Any minute now her heart would give out on her again, and there was a real possibility that this time it wouldn't start again.

Throughout the whole of her labour, she said nothing to Dr Reynolds or Atticus, hoping that by staying silent it would erase the very real fact that her baby hadn't moved for weeks. Maybe if she didn't voice her worries it would all work out fine.

Both Atticus and Dr Reynolds hadn't been able to conceal their concern at Jean's premature delivery, but when each minute passed and she was still conscious, she saw Atticus relax a little. He knelt by the side of their bed holding her hand and brushing hair out of her face.

"You're doing great," he murmured in her ear. "You're almost there."

After what seemed like a lifetime of pain and pushing, it was over.

And there was silence.

The silence was deafening and cut through Jean's heart like a knife. She turned fearfully to her husband only to find him looking right back at her with the same expression of fear, both of them thinking the same thing: why wasn't there crying?

Jean tried not to panic, she tried to control the rapid beating of her heart and stay calm. It was fine, everything was fine. She felt Atticus let go of her hand and go to Dr Reynolds who had turned his back to the bed, and she watched his face go pure white. Jean could only pick up snippets of what the doctor was whispering to Atticus and the midwife, picking up "the cord...knotted too tightly...entirely unseeable," and she knew that it wasn't fine, everything wasn't fine, and it was something that the doctor couldn't fix.

Without a word, Dr Reynolds and the midwife left the room with her baby, and Atticus half ran through to the bathroom where she heard him throw up. Jean was scared. In the midst of worrying that something could happen her, she had never entertained the notion that something could happen the baby. Why hadn't she gone to the doctor when she first noticed how still her baby had become? Maybe something could have been done.

When Atticus came through from the bathroom, his face was still stark white and he looked so shaken up that Jean wanted the floor to swallow her up. Was it her fault he was hurting?

"Atticus?" She said, finding that her voice wouldn't quite work right. "Atticus, what..." She stopped, feeling her voice crack at any attempts to speak.

Silently, Atticus climbed on the bed next to her and gently pulled her close to him, burying his face into her hair. Was he crying?

"Atticus.." Jean tried again.

Her husband only held her, not saying a word. His fingers were brushing her shoulder, but it wasn't enough. She needed him to speak, she needed to know what was happening, where her baby was, why she hadn't been allowed to hold it. She felt like screaming. Why wasn't anyone telling her was was going on? Why was everyone walking on eggshells?

"Atticus." Jean said again, putting as much effort in as possible to make her voice sound firm.

She felt his grip around her tighten. "Jean, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice sounding rough.

"For what?" She asked, feeling worry build within her.

Atticus adjusted her in his arms, making it easier for him to gently push her head to his chest. "The baby..." He cleared his throat. "The baby...the cord was wrapped around his neck. The doctor said there was nothin' he could do. Jean, I'm sorry."

He didn't need to say anymore. Jean knew her baby was dead. The baby that she had carried for nearly nine months, the baby whose little feet she had felt kicking, who she had felt moving around within her, hadn't even taken its first breath. Hadn't even taken his first breath. Her little baby was a boy. She had two sons...no...she would have had two sons. Is that how she was supposed to view it? Even if the baby had never been alive in this world, could she still say she had two sons?

She felt as though something within her just erupted. Her tears were silent but they came in full force. She was shaking, almost uncontrollably, and she didn't know what she was supposed to do, how she was supposed to feel. Since finding out about her baby's existence, she had loved it fiercely and wanted nothing more than to feel the sensation of her own child nestled in her arm. What was she supposed to do? There weren't any books giving advice on how to say goodbye to a child she hadn't even been given the chance to know.

"Where're they takin' him?" Jean managed to squeak out, looking up at her husband and becoming alarmed at the silent tears tracking down his own face.

"They're gonna get him cleaned up, then they're gonna let you hold him." Atticus said softly, leaning his cheek on her head. "But only if you're comfortable." He added, touching his lips to her hair.

Jean felt conflicted. Would holding her baby, her son, in her arms help to heal her heart, or would it break it even more? Would she be able to tell already if he looked like her or Atticus? Would she be able to cope with holding her son in her arms while knowing he would be taken away from her for burial? Would she be able to cope with seeing his face while knowing it would be the first and last time she would?

"I want to." Jean said, ultimately deciding that she'd never forgive herself in the long term if she didn't. Her son deserved to be held and loved, even if he wasn't able to feel it. What kind of a mother would she be if she did otherwise?

Atticus gave her a squeeze and she buried her head into his chest. Suddenly, she felt guilty. While she was hurting immensely and feeling pain the likes of which made labour feel tame, Atticus was hurting, too. They had both lost a child, not just her. While she couldn't trust herself to comfort him with words, she reached for his hand and squeezed it as tightly as she could. Her husband was being strong for her sake, but she knew he needed comfort, too. His pain was just as strong, just as palpable as hers, and right now he needed her just as much as she needed him.

When Dr Reynolds creaked open the bedroom door, Jean didn't know how long she had been crying, but she felt exhausted. Her eyes were red and stinging, but they went immediately to the little bundle in his arms, and she felt her heart shatter again. This wasn't some terrible nightmare that she would wake up from any minute, this was real, sickeningly real. She thought she would throw up as Dr Reynolds approached the bed, but almost automatically her arms were reaching out for her son. She wanted to feel him, hold him, love him.

"Mrs Finch, I'm...I'm so sorry." Dr Reynolds was saying as he lowered the baby into Jean's arms, and she knew the man couldn't look more remorseful if he tried.

Jean didn't even respond, she was too absorbed in taking in every feature of her baby. Her finger caressed his cheek that was no longer warm, her eyes took in the tuft of dark hair telling her he would have looked like his father, and her heart was breaking a million times over at how completely still he was. Her son lay completely still in her arms, not moving an inch. She knew he would never move, would never breathe, would never call her "mama", would never run around playing with his brother, but some part of her kept hoping. Some part of her kept stupidly believing that if she didn't take her eyes off him and made him feel how unbelievably loved he was, his little hands would move and his eyes would open. She wanted him to move, her heart was aching with how desperately she wished he would move.

But nothing happened.

Beside her, Atticus sat silently staring down at the face of his son, one tear still making its way down his cheek. Jean didn't think she had ever seen him look so visibly upset, so visibly broken, and she prayed she never had to again. When she gestured for him to take their son in his arms, he hesitated briefly before lifting the little bundle from her and resting him ever so gently in the crook of his arm. Atticus basically mirrored her own actions, letting his finger stroke his son's cheek and brush the little tuft of hair. In all her life, Jean didn't think she had seen such a heartbreaking scene.

"He's perfect," Atticus said, his voice hoarse.

"Just like his daddy," Jean replied, feeling fresh tears spill down her cheeks.

Her son was then passed back into her arms, Atticus not even bothering to wipe away his tears. Even though she was aching so badly she could barely keep herself together, she willed herself to stay strong and allow Atticus an opportunity to grieve. While he turned his face back into her hair, she gazed down at the perfect little face of her stillborn son.

"We love you, precious," she said in barely a whisper. "Mama and daddy love you. You're going to be our little angel."

She felt Atticus sit up from her side and lean down to kiss his son's head, his tears transferring over to the tuft of jet black hair as he whispered something Jean couldn't hear.. When he returned to his wife's side, he murmured something in her ear about the plans they would need to start making. Jean's mind went immediately to tiny white coffins and heartbreaking sermons. She knew that her pain was just beginning, it was just getting started, and she wouldn't be free of it until the day she died.


End file.
